It Takes Strength to Fight a War
by chausettes et chauseurs
Summary: All I could remember is that sound, that roaring in my ears. I wanted for it to stop, to end; but I couldn't let it slip away. That voice that said so much in only one note. Aslan, I could feel his presence. But it ended, much too soon..."
1. Prolouge

_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, they belong fully to C.S. Lewis and Disney... except for my one copy that I bought... that **one** _is_ mine.

A crisp spring breeze ruffled the spongy heather on a high slope; whistling as it hit against the tops of trees in the silver moonlight. These were the hours that she loved best, hair fanning out onto the cool moor. Head rested on her palms as her hazel eyes scanned the stars that she had grown up knowing. If only everything could stay in place, hold in a simply perfect moment; each blade of grass every chord that the wind sang frozen in time. But it wouldn't stay this way, not forever. Everything would change, those that lived before would die, save for the legends that they left behind.

The girl chuckled softly to herself, "What thoughts the stars can provoke." She murmured, sighing in the sheer wistfulness that only dreams can provide. "My dear Aslan, what will you have us do?" Her whisper barely audible. "I'm trying as hard as I can..." With a slight yawn she let herself be lulled to sleep, still praying for their savior.

* * *

_"Do tell me that one again, Mother, please?" Pleaded the young girl to an olive-skinned centaur beside her who chuckled in turn. _

_"Again?" She asked, "Arameyis, would you not rather hear of the adventures of Shasta and Bree?"_

_"No, Please, the one that you just did," Arameyis begged. The centaur pat her head._

_"Fine, I can see that there is no dissuading you," Tarmeda complied, tail whisking away a fly. "Long, long ago, before either you or I were born, so long ago that people can only remember it as a legend, or a far off dream; there live an evil witch who ruled over Narnia. She was a cruel tyrant who hated everything and everyone except for herself. And she enslaved all of Narnia in one hundred years of the most bitter winter anyone had ever seen. Her cold cruel heart had only one fear, Humans. And she told everyone in her Kingdom 'If you ever see a son of Adam or a daughter of Eve, bring them to me.' And they were all so afraid of what the witch could do that even the more noble of beasts would decided to obey her. But still, no flesh of Adam came and the winter prevailed on. _

_Then one day, as quietly as a mouse, one lone daughter of Eve found her way into Narnia from the land of Spare Oom. Now she thought herself quite lost and ran into a kind faun named Mr. Tumnus. The little girl, who's name turned out to be Lucy, adored the faun and went home with him for a cup of tee, for she was quite cold by then. But little did she know of the White witch's plan. Mr. Tumnus lulled her to sleep so while she was slumbering he would steal her away to the witch. But Mr. Tumnus was a good faun and realized that this little daughter of Eve had never committed any sin against him. So, when she woke up, he led her back to where she had come from. _

_When Lucy had gotten home, she told her brothers and sister all about the wonderful world in which she had visited. And when she was finished, they went to see if there really was a fantastic world, but they couldn't find it. Now Lucy's oldest brother became worried and wondered if his little sister had become delusional. But her other brother, Edmund, scoffed at her for it and made fun of her. _

_Little Lucy never lost hope though and she found her way back into Narnia. Edmund, the second youngest thought it would be funny to tease her some more and followed her into the doorway. Before he knew it he wound up in Narnia. He realized his horrible mistake, but couldn't find Lucy to apologize. _

_The witch often loved going for rides in her sledge, filing her subjects with fear. But, this time, what she found was a young son of Adam instead. She gave him all sorts of treats to get him to speak about his siblings. But the food was enchanted and he wanted more. The witch, pleased that her evil plot had worked, promised him more if only he would bring his brother and sister._

_He was a deceitful boy and tricked his family into coming. Lucy was so excited to have them all in Narnia though and brought them to Mr.Tumnus' cave. But he wasn't there, only a letter telling them that he had been arrested. And as they were leaving, they met a beaver who said that they still had hope to rescue their friend. So they followed him home and heard the prophecy-"_

_"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, sit at Cair Paravel in throne, The witch's time will be over and done." Arameyis repeated, eyes wide with excitement._

_Tarmeda cracked a small smile. "You've just about got it, but, on with the story. And before they were finished, Edmund left to go tell the witch of their arrival. The Beavers noticed that he had left and had the children pack some food and run. And they ran all the way to the Stone Table and they met Saint Nicholas who gave them gifts: To Peter he gave the sword and shield of Aslan; to Susan a magic bow and horn; and to brave little Lucy a dagger and a vial of juice that could heal any wound. _

_The children were all so worried about their brother though that they told Aslan all that had happened and he bargained with the witch for Edmund. The cost was high, the cost was Aslan's own life. But he knew what he was doing and he went with dignity and was slain on the Stone Table. Lucy and Susan were unfortunate to see this and wept. And while they wept, Aslan, who had known the true meaning of the deep magic, came back to life. He told them to get on to his back and they were off to the witch's palace to free all of those she had turned into stone with her evil wand._

_Edmund was so sorry that he had ever done any of that and wished to desperately make it up to them somehow. And he did, because the next day, the witch attacked all of the Narnians. Peter had been put in charge and told his brother to leave the battle. But his brother had a plan, so that while swords and shields clashed and horses whinnied and chaos had broken loose. He would kill the evil White witch. He jumped into battle and destroyed her wand, stopping her from ever turning people into stone again. That made her mad and she stabbed him, just as Aslan burst into the battle and killed her. Lucy rushed over to her brother and healed him with her magic vial, then turned to the others who were wounded. The familly was together again and they were all happy as they weant to Cair Paravel where they became the great Kings and Queens of old: High King Peter, the Magnificent; Queen Susan the Gentle; King Edmund the Just; and Queen Lucy the Valiant."_

* * *

Arameyis woke with a start. The moon was still shining and the heather still spongy. Though she wondered why she had recalled that memory now. "Is this a sign, Aslan?" She asked, looking up at the skies.


	2. Magic

Arameyis found herself herself gazing up at the stars with a new intensity. Her brow furrowed as she whispered to herself, "Alambil and Tarva are quite close..." The girl sighed, smiling to herself, "I'm fooling myself, my mind is playing a horrid joke on me by showing me what I want to see..." She chuckled, laying back down on the soft turf as the pale light of dawn manifested itself on the horizon.

The familiar trod of hooves alerted her to the presence of her brother. "You didn't come home last night. Mother was worried." He told her in his husky voice.

"Was she expecting me to, Dromius?" Arameyis replied, tilting her head slightly to look at the centaur she had grown up with. His dark skin resembling his father's.

"She thought you said that you would be right back." He pawed the earth with his foreleg a show that he was in a somewhat good mood.

"I told her that I _might _be right back," She rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'll be back anytime soon actually. I have something that I need to do first..."

Dromius raised a dark eyebrow. "And what would that be pray tell, Arameyis?"

His sister heaved herself off of the ground and onto her feet; brushing off her forest green Tunic. "Dromius, have you ever thought of minding your own business?" She asked, interesting herself with a leaf stuck to her pants. Arameyis plucked it off, twisting it between her pale thumb and index finger.

"Have you ever thought of being a bit less tenacious?" He retorted coyly, black tail swishing back and forth impatiently. The girl let the leaf fall from her hands, turning on her heel and walking away. "Fine, don't answer me," the young centaur sneered to himself before heading back home to finish his breakfast.

The cool of night still clung to the air; dew formed on the blades of grass. Arameyis walked on, mind still set on the dream that she had had last night. It seemed so far away, yet so close that she could almost reach out and pluck it right out of the sky. She shuddered, though whether from excitement, fear, or cold, she knew not. Her light brown hair cascaded down her back, swaying softly as she headed towards her destination. The terrain became a bit rockier the farther she went. But, she knew where she was going.

In the distance, a lark sang to the new day. Arameyis smiled, whistling along to it's tune. Another replied to their singing and so began a conversation. It was nice to be away from it all; living with a four adolescent centaurs was not the easiest. They were as wild and powerful as stallions and as moody as a teenage boy. Arameyis would often join into their crude conversations and mock-fights, thinking of them even more as brothers the longer she was around them. She loved them all quite dearly, but, she loved to finally be alone for once.

"Aslan," sighed Arameyis softly. "Where are you? Why have you yet to come? Why haven't you helped us?" She looked up through the roof of trees, seeing the hazy twilight encompassing Narnia in an eerie glow; as the skies before a storm.

Suddenly, as deep and reverberant as the earth itself, a sound ripped through her; sending her heart pounding in her chest. Certainly nothing but magic could shake any soul as this sound did. Though terrible and foreboding, the sound was somehow beautiful; like the feeling one gets right before their birthday morning. The mixed feelings that Arameyis experienced at that moment were enough to tear a hole right through to the core of her subconscious psyche. She wanted to laugh, cry, scream, dance, and destroy something all at the same moment. The girl dropped to her knees, clutching her head as if it were about to explode. Memories of the stories that Tarmeda had told her all came flooding back. Especially those of the High king and his siblings.

Finally, after what felt like centuries and seconds, the sound stopped and all was silent. That was the last thing that Arameyis could remember before slipping into a comforting blackness.


	3. Waking

Note to those who are going to read beyond this point in the story: I plan on actually switching points of views every now and then just to make it a little more interesting...(I hope). So from now on the chapters can now be in either first person or third person! (But mostly third person)

All I could remember is that sound, that roaring in my ears. I wanted for it to stop, to end; but I couldn't let it slip away. That voice that said so much in only one note. Aslan, I could feel his presence. He whispered to me in a language that I couldn't understand, a language so beautiful that I wanted to cry and to swoon and to listen to forever. But it ended, much too soon, though I could have sworn it had lasted centuries. And I knew that I had missed something important.

That was how I was feeling at the moment. My head ached and my eyelids felt heavy; as if I hadn't slept in weeks. Somewhere close, voices were whispering. I wanted them to stop, to grow weaker. Aslan was trying to tell me something, I knew it; but as the voices grew stronger, His voice grew weaker and was drowned out in their soft roars.

"Is she okay?" said a young male voice. He couldn't be more that twelve, I immediately recognized it as Halroot. My youngest brother.

"One can only pray to Aslan that she is well," Replied a much deeper voice. My father.

"I'm glad I went to go check on her..." The voice of my oldest brother, Welkropt, softly murmured. "Dromius, you did tell her that mother was quite worried about her, did you not?"

Dromius snorted, "Do you doubt me? Of course I told her, but you know Arameyis. She listens not to reason!"

I tried to open my eyelids and found that they were heavier than I'd anticipated. I desperately wanted to let them know that I was okay and that something grave was going to happen. But when I opened my mouth, the only sound that escaped was a groan.

"Do you think that she's waking?"

"Hush, peace is what is best for her now."

With great effort, I forced my eyes open; regretting it as the excessive light burned them. "What was that sound?" I asked to no one in particular.

I tried to sit up wincing as my head felt fit to burst. "Does anyone have some willow bark?" The only pain that I could never tolerate. Headaches and intestinal discomfort...

My father broke off a piece of a nearby tree and handed it to me. "Thanks," I mumbled, grimacing at the bitter taste it gave off as I chewed it. However, soon grew accustomed to the acerbic residue that it left in my mouth. The relief that I felt though dispelled any hatred towards the old remedy.

"Arameyis, what happened?" Halroot asked, the intensity of his dark eyes fixed on me made me fidget a bit. I had never liked the feeling of being watched.

"I think something of importance is about to happen..." I said through a mouthful of willow. "Though whether it be for good or ill, I am not certain."

"Tarva now salutes Alambil, they have drawn quite close." My father had always been a bit mysterious in this way. He could always comprehend something more quickly than I. I suppose it must have been because he was close to one hundred and fifty years old, as opposed to my fifteen. But, I knew that he knew that a war was at hand and someone would win, the others would lose. This would bring about peace somehow, but how many would have to die for that peace?

Th pounding of hooves graced my ears. Too heavy for a horse. I craned my neck to see Thalodin gallop into the clearing. Sweat covered his dark muscular body, he had run far.

"Father," said my second oldest brother, Trufflehunter the badger and Nikabrik the dwarf are sheltering a son of Adam who wishes to speak with us." He was panting, chest heaving up and down. "He's a Telemarine."

I looked at him, shocked. I knew Trufflehunter and Nikabrik, Trumpkin the red dwarf lived with them. Although why my brother had not said his name I could not be certain. Trufflehunter was a kind middle-aged badger who might take a Telemarine soldier in if he saw fit. But, Nikabrik, I chuckled to myself at the sheer absurdity, would _never_ in all of his life shelter a human, much less a Telemarine. "When are we to meet this Telemarine of theirs? Hm?" I asked through a fit of hysterics. Which resulted in me almost choking on my willow bark. (Dromius had to slap my back before I was able to breathe again). And when we were all sorted Thalodin began to speak.

"We are to assemble in one hour on the hill where the fauns dance during the silver moon."


	4. Caspian

If you have read all of my other chapters and are so devoted as to endure a fourth may the Lord bless you because it must be so tiresome to read such mediocre works. And I love you all for it. If I knew who you were, I would most indefinitely give you a large bear hug, but as I do not know you, a virtual bear hug will have to do. Oh, and the Pevensies are going to be introduced soon. And a Special thank you to NyxDragon2023 I love you especially!

With love,

Socks and Shoes

(P.S. This chapter is going to be in third-person and if I use the words 'queer' or 'gay' they will retain their original meanings and not 'homosexual'.)

* * *

Arameyis found herself walking alongside her brothers towards the hill where she had come to know and love the little fauns of the wood. She would watch them dance all night when she could and loved to be around the good natured creatures. But now, she found the usual emotions in coming to this hill dispelled by the anxiety and excitement she now felt. Her heart raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins, sending a slight blush to her pale cheeks.

"Be afraid not my daughter," Said Glenstorm, the centaur whom she had called 'Father' for so many years.

She smiled a bit meekly, "It's been so long..." she forced a laugh, though it was shrill and unnatural. "Besides... it would take more than just a renegade Telemarine to bring me down." _Or at least, I hope..._ Thalodin put a strong hand on her shoulder, this helped immensely.

"You shall be fine," Her brother murmured. "You have Kryn with you." Although they were of different race, Arameyis found that Thalodin had always understood her the best out of all of her family. And he was right, she did have Kryn with her, the broadsword strapped snuggly to her scrawny waist.

"Yeah," Dromius chimed in. "You have nothing to fear. I bet all we're going to do is try him for whatever it is that he's done."

"You're right."

Those words had soothed Arameyis' qualms and her uneasiness subsided. Tightly, she gripped Kryn's hilt. _They're right, I probably have nothing to fear what-so-ever. And I was probably just over-reacting. There is nothing to fear, there are three of us and only one of him._

They arrived at the hill with little interruptions or problems. Many of the other Narnians had already gathered. There were the Dwarf brothers and the Bulgie bears and the mice and the Minotaurs, the lithe forms of the Blackspot family, the fauns and satyrs, and the other centaurs had all gathered. Leaving about half of the Narnians yet to come.

It was then that Arameyis noticed an attractive young man leaning up against a tree with two forms sitting on either side of him. She immediately recognized them as Trufflehunter and Nikabrik. _So, the man in the middle must be the Telemarine. _She thought to herself. _He doesn't look evil... or bad... in fact, he looks kind of nice. Not at all like the normal Telemarine soldiers that come around here that I often shoot... No, this one is definitely different from the others._

Slowly, as if the hill were a giant magnet, creatures began to slip into the clearing. Each one of them a noble Narnian who would fight to the death against any Telemarine invaders. A few of them saluted Glenstorm and his sons and gave a rough bow to Arameyis; who curtsied in return. For in Narnia, it is proper for a woman to curtsy rather than bow. But, after a while (and a few bruises from Kryn), she gave up on being diplomatic and simply returned to bowing as she would normally do.

As soon as it seemed to appear that no one else would come the meeting started.

And what a meeting it was, there were catcalls and jeering thrown at the Telemarine before he had even a chance to speak. It was finally Glenstorm who silenced them with a glare as icy cold as the hundred year winter from so long ago. "Let him say what he has to say." He sternly told them all as if he had been reprimanding Dromius rather than a group of creatures as old as he.

"Thank you," said the Telemarine through his accent; his dark eyes smoldered warmly towards her father. It had been so long since Arameyis had spoken with that sort of accent. So long since she had been among people who lived as they. It was when he had been appraising Glenstorm that he noticed the only other human in the crowd. A girl a few years younger than himself; with mousy brown hair tied back with a green ribbon. A belt strapped over a forest green tunic carried a broadsword that a man would normally carry. Instead of a skirt she sported a pair of grayish-black britches a bit too large for her and brown leather boots. But that wasn't what had intrigued him, no, it was her fierce determined eyes watching him like a hawk watches its prey. He didn't know why, but he found her a bit intimidating. He tore his eyes away from hers, now feeling even more uncomfortable under her scrutinizing stare.

"Narnians," he addressed the crowd. "Please, just listen to me. I realize that my people have harmed you-"

"Harmed us?!" Cried out one of the five black dwarf brothers in his surly voice. "They've been tryin' to exterminate us! You think you're any differnt'n them?!"

"Would you hold me accountable for the deeds of my people?" Inquired the man, quite horrified at the prospect.

Nikabrik stepped in, "Accountable and punishable!"

The man's eyes widened. "But-" he stammered, "Outside of here I am a rightfully a king, and even as little as a week ago, I didn't even believe in the existence of talking beasts, or fauns, or centaurs. But here you are, in strength and numbers that no Telemarine could ever have imagined. And if we combined our forces, we might even be able to take down Miraz himself. And once I was king, I would work to restore balance between us."

Trufflehunter smiled and walked over to him, "Well said Caspian, and us badgers know (for we have a long memory) that Narnia was never right unless a son of Adam was king."

Arameyis watched all of this with a morbid interest. _I think we should kill this 'Prince Caspian' or whatever he is just in case though..._ she pondered in her own mind. But she said nothing out loud.

It was her father who spoke next. "I have watched the skies because they are mine to watch, just as they are yours to remember, Badger. Tarva the lord of victory salutes Alambil the Lady of peace in their celestial dance." He paused, drawing his sword, demonstrating for his sons to follow. Arameyis grabbed Kryns hilt and drew the gleaming blade just as her father had done. "If you are willing to lead us, than my sons and I will give you our swords."

The head mouse, Reepicheep, piped in. "And our lives." He added with a regal bow.

Caspian was overjoyed with this and replied in his husky accent. "We have much work to do then. We must secure supplies for our troops."

Ӂ

It had been about two days since the horn had been blown (they had been told what the noise was) and the meeting to have been adjourned. Arameyis sat against the trunk of a rather large oak tree. It was the first break she had allowed herself in hours. Hoping to catch a bit of sleep she closed her eyes.

The Narnian stars were already out and illuminating the world in their silvery glow while the large white moon danced across the sky. It was close to midnight when Arameyis finally drifted off. Beside her lay her brother Dromius, who continued to gaze up at the stars. Their work had been simple, but extremely tiring, running orders back and forth to everybody. But for the night they had been given a brake to catch up on their sleep.

It felt like only a moment later that a hand was shaking Arameyis awake. It was Dromius. "They let us sleep in a bit the others are already headed towards the encampment." He muttered quickly in her ear.

Arameyis' eyes shot open to let in the soft light of early morning. "They left without us?" She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, that's what I told you, isn't it?" Dromius began walking away. "C'mon, they won't wait forever." And with those final words, he galloped off.

His sister let out a low oath before getting up, brushing off her tunic, and running to try and catch up with him. Of course, it was a futile effort, and I needn't explain to you that a centaur runs much faster than a human.

Ӂ

Edmund woke early that morning; and having had a pleasant sleep, was in a much better mood than last night. The forest around him helped to cheer him up even more, for Narnia was his favorite place to be. He picked a dead leaf off of his tunic's blue sleeve as he sat up to listen to the birds bring in the morning.

His siblings were all asleep and their dear little friend, Trumpkin, was nowhere to be found. He sighed, hoping that he had gone off to find some breakfast and not betraying them to an evil force. Edmund had always had a slight fear of dwarfs, after being tormented constantly by the White Witch's servant. A twig snapped nearby. Instinctively, Edmund seized the hilt of his sword, watching the woods with great caution.

As he waited, the birds still went on chirping in their loud gay voices. The soft quick pitter-patter of running feet graced his ears though. He tensed, ready to fight. But, then the person came, running quite quickly. Not even pausing to look around. It was a girl.

The young king sat there, transfixed for a moment as he watched her slight form run past him. Her brown hair flying back, becoming a soft golden in the early morning light. Pale skin a bit flushed. The oddest part about her was that she was wearing a man's clothes. In all of his life, Edmund had yet to see that. Or at least, until that moment. But, as soon as she had come, she had gone. Leaving the teenager quite bewildered.


	5. An Archer

Edmund found his composure and wondered why the girl had run so frantically, was she being chased by Telemarine soldiers? If she was, then that would make her a damsel in distress and the young king felt the desire to save her blossom in his chest. But what if she _was_ a Telemarine soldier... or... He scratched his head, utterly confused as to what to do. So, he waited, if a hunting party came running past, he would try to save her. If nothing happened then he would wake the others and get an early start.

When nothing happened, he shrugged to himself and looked at the now dead embers of last night's fire. A slight grunt from his younger sister alerted him to her awakening. She pushed herself upright and yawned, where upon seeing her brother, smiled. "Good morrow Ed. I had the most splendid dream last night!" she exclaimed quite eagerly.

Edmund raised an eyebrow. As if to ask, "what was it about."

She took that as an open invitation, "I saw Aslan! And he has shown me the path to him!" The youngest Pevensie was positively beaming. "Oh Edmund, he grew and he was so big already!" and she got into a very detailed explanation about dancing Naiads and Dryads and wood-gods and how they had brought her to Aslan. He was not far away from their camp at all.

"Well," her brother started. "I suppose we should probably wake the others and look for Him then."

"Oh, you believe me?" She happily squealed. Hugging Edmund tightly.

"Of course, Aslan doesn't just send dreams for no reason." He explained cooly; hesitantly wrapping his arms loosely around his little sister.

Lucy let him go, still giddy as could be. But, while Edmund turned to wake the high king, Lucy's curiosity got the better of her. She looked over at the woods where the trees of her dream had been dancing and before anyone realized her absence, slipped into the wood.

"Peter," the younger king shook his brother. "Peter, get up!"

The eldest Pevensie child pushed him away, muttering something incoherent. A thin stream of drool hanging out of his mouth.

"Peter! Get up! Lucy says she's seen Aslan!" Edmund gave him another shove.

"She's just dreaming again." Peter didn't even open his eyes, swatting at his brother to go away.

The younger king rubbed his temples, getting his quick temper under control before finally tackling him. "Get up!" He bellowed in Peter's ear.

"Ed you ass! I told you that she was dreaming. Aslan isn't coming this time!" He got up, shoving Edmund off of him. "But, either way I'm up now..." He looked around, "Where is Lu anyway?"

Edmund followed his gaze. Lucy was gone, he felt a knot of anxiety wrap itself around his stomach. "Ed, wake Susan, I'm going to go look for Lucy." The high king said. Worry apparent on his pale face. The younger sibling took the incentive and began to shake his elder sister vigorously as his brother raced off to find the missing queen.

"Susan, get up."

She was much easier to wake than Peter and shot right up. "What's wrong? Are we under attack?" Her startled voice questioned.

"No, worse, Lu's missing." Susan's parental instincts were awakened by these words. Although she had never had any children of her own, she began to act like a frantic mother, most seventeen year old girls do when a loved one is in danger. She jumped up, strapping on her quiver of arrows onto her back as she ran into the forest. Edmund, who wasn't quite as worried had to race to catch up with her.

However Lucy wasn't far, and Susan quickly embraced her little sister.

Edmund, a little more practical, asked, "Where is Peter?"

The youngest Pevensie pointed to her left. "He was sneaking up on a minotaur."

The two middle children stuck there heads up over the bush that Lucy was hiding behind.

What they saw were two men in a duel. One they recognized as Peter, the other they didn't recognize at all. As they whirled an parried and the sound of metal pierced the air Susan watched, horrified.

The man Peter was dueling had tanned skin and shoulder length black hair. He was clad in dark leather armor and appeared to only be a few years older than Peter himself. The high king knocked the sword out of his hands and as he was about to behead him, got his own sword caught in a tree. The other man took his chance to kick the Pevensie in the gut, causing him to stumble.

Susan ran out into the open, her younger brother following her. Neither man turned to look at them, only continued their fist fighting. Edmund who had been so caught up in the fight now realized the severity of the situation. Narnians, dozens of them had encircled themselves around the nobles. Many of them pointing deadly arrows at them.

As he looked a sinking feeling brought down his spirits. Would they be murdered by their own subjects? But one archer caught his eye in particular, more than likely because she had her bow pointed at him rather than Peter. She was human, brown hair tied back, wearing a forest-green tunic, britches, and leather boots. The girl from this morning. Her eagle-like eyes locked on him, unwavering.

Edmund had never been as good of an archer as Susan, but he thought that he was pretty good. And from what he could tell she was definitely a good shot. He locked eyes with her, hoping that she would realize who he was as he sent a silent prayer to Aslan.

"PETER!" The older queen screamed as the other man took the sword out of the tree, ready to kill him if necessary. He stopped mid-swing becoming fully aware of who he was fighting.

Edmund eyes still locked with the archer, smiled slightly knowing that the Narnians now realized who they were about to kill. The girl's eyes widened, no longer the fierce determined girl she had been just seconds ago. Her shock was apparent as she let her bow slack and put the arrow in it's quiver. She dropped her gaze to the worn leather of her boots. An embarrassed flush rose to her milk-white cheeks. The dark centaur next to her nudged her, murmuring something in her pale ear. She looked absolutely livid. The girl jumped back, looking at her companion with an undignified expression. She punched him, frowning and hissing a string of low oaths at him while taking out her bow and beating the centaur over the head with it. Edmund found himself chuckling softly to himself, wondering what he had said.

The centaur, with a few bruises, decided it was best to get away from the scandalized girl and galloped over to another, darker, centaur. It took Ed a few moments to realize why the crowd around him began to swirl and head in a westward direction. But when he did, he trotted to catch up with his siblings who were now talking eagerly to whom he assumed was prince Caspian.

Chatting away with Peter was a mouse about two feet tall. It was discussing battle tactics and normally he would have joined in, but, he found his mind was distracted. Thoughts about this mysterious girl flooded his mind. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why was she wearing men's clothes? He glanced behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of her. She was next to a female centaur with olive-skin that turned to a gleaming black coat of a strong horse's body. The girl, he was pretty sure, had been watching him. At least, until he had looked back. She quickly hung her head, refusing to look at him.

Edmund found himself wanting to speak to her even more. To hear the sound of her voice as she told him how she had joined Caspian's army. Or if she had even joined his army. Was she a renegade? He slowed his pace a bit, falling behind his brother and sisters. As people passed him, they bowed and saluted and smiled and gave him praise. It was when he reached the middle of the line that he was finally next to the girl.

"Hullo," He said to her.

"H-hello..." she replied meekly; still hanging her head.

The king began to wonder the extent of her shyness. She was blushing furiously and avoided eye contact. At a loss as of what to say Edmund just began a simple generic conversation. "How are you?" He asked.

She raised her head a bit, cheeks rosy with color against her pale skin as she tried to look at him and be civilized. "I'm decent, and you?" Her voice was a bit nervous.

"I'm splendid, thank you for asking." Came his more kingly voice. "I don't think I've caught your name, though." He held out his hand. "I'm king Edmund."

Her bright hazel eyes glimmered with unexpected laughter. "Arameyis, at your service my king." She smiled, though the color never left her cheeks, as she took his hand and shook it. His handshake was firm and measured, though she noticed he took care to be gentle.

"So, lady Arameyis, how did you come to be an archer?" Asked Edmund, letting go of her hand.

Arameyis blushed, both at the title and the embarrassment she still felt for even pointing the bow at the king. "I don't remember..." She dropped her head. "I'm sorry for almost shooting you."

"You were only doing what any true Narnian would have done." He placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Do you really mean that?"

"A king doesn't lie." Replied the Pevensie, earning a look of awe from Arameyis.

Her hazel eyes were fixed on the king as he continued on. "How did you come about joining the Narnians?"

She chuckled lightly, heart filling with ache as the memories from the past welled up inside. Her smile faded, eyes clouding over. "It's a long story..."


	6. blush

Hello my lovely little readers, I'd ask how you were doing, but, I think it would be pretty hard for you to respond... It's okay though duckies, because if you wish, you could say how you're feeling in a review, now wouldn't that be splendid? Right now it's around one-hundred and four degrees here. It should be against the law to have such atrocious temperatures. But that's a whole different topic which I don't plan on discussing.

Now that we're done with this pleasant little exchange, I would like to get down to business. This chapter is going to be Arameyis' past. It will be in a first-person narrative. And one more thing, I would greatly appreciate it if any of you loyal readers were to review. Please people, it's not that hard and I really want to know how I'm doing and if there are any slight changes that could be made to make this story better. I still love you all, all forty-seven of you who have persisted in reading this far. And thank you especially to Scoli727 for the constructive criticism (is the summary any better now?). Now that it has taken me forever to write this message to you, I will get on with the story.

Love you,

Socks and Shoes

* * *

Ah, autumn, my favorite of seasons. The crisp cool air that refreshed my lungs with each breath. All of the stickiness of summer subsided into miserable memories. Leaves turned vibrant hues, dancing in a invigorating breeze. Bright orange pumpkins lined up for sale in the town square along with the best and freshest of the harvest: corn with kernels as sweet and yellow as butter, squash in so many colors and shapes that it would take years for me to describe them all, watermelons bigger than any grown man's head, apples, pears, peaches, and berries tenderer and sweeter than the sweetest of sweet-meats, available by the bushel. Yes, the autumn, a lovelier season I never knew.

I breathed in, taking all of the time in the world that I could. Each luscious gulp of air as welcome as the last. I sighed, wishing everyday could be as beautiful as this.

"Arameyis," called a sing-song voice from the kitchen of our small lodging. I turned around, showing my teeth through a grin.

"Yes, mother?" I called back. She walked out, drying her large hands on the old battered apron that she wore. The few wrinkles that she had smoothed out as she softly smiled. Her old hazel eyes wizened with age sparkling. My mother brushed a strand of wispy graying brown hair behind her ear.

"What would you like to do today?" She asked, stooping down to look into my young face.

I pondered, quite thoughtful for a moment, absentmindedly picking at a scab on my knee. "Well," I began, "we could get bunches of leaves and jump in them."

Mother chuckled, "your father wouldn't like that."

This caused me to frown. "He doesn't like anything I do..."

Her face became grave, "don't say that, Arameyis, your father loves you very much..." I couldn't believe her, not after everything that he'd ever done to me. No, I was done forgiving.

"I know..." I forced a slight smile. Not looking my mother in the eyes as hatred burned inside of me.

"Now then," she straightened up, stretching her long arms. "How about some apple tart." I watched as my mother walked back into the kitchen, stride filled with purpose. After a moment, I followed her.

A delicious smell wafted up my nose. Mother had always been a fantastic cook. My mouth watered in anticipation for the treat that I so rarely ever got.

The smell became stronger as my mother placed the sweet before me. "Eat up," she said before turning away to attend to her own piece.

My heart stopped for a second, I could hear the thudding of boots down the hall. My father, I hoped that he would be pleased with what mother had done. The stomping grew louder, he was coming closer. "What's that smell?" He asked. His gruff voice sent a shiver down my spine. The pounding of his boots stopped and I turned to face him. I tried to smile, but found that I couldn't. His square grizzly face, coarse black beard flecked with gray. A long pink scar across the bridge of his leathery tan face. His eyes, blacker than the blackest coal; oh how those eyes pierced my soul with dread. Takra, his broadsword still strapped to his waist. I guessed that he had just gotten back from a meeting with Miraz, considering that he was eligible for a promotion.

He glared at me with those soul-less black eyes, lips turned down in an impressive snarl. Something about him, his posture scared me. Then, to my surprise, he smiled. This was probably the first and last time I had ever seen that. Though something about it reminded me of a demon. I could almost taste the malice in the room. My mother could sense it too, for she stood close to me, placing a worn hand on my shoulder. "Well," she asked in her most pleasant of voices. "How did your meeting go?"

My father's smile widened, "It went well," he replied. "There's only on thing that I must do to show my devotion to Miraz."

My eyes widened, and I wondered if my mothers had too. I needn't have asked what. The leathery hand of my father was grasping Takra. I had never been more terrified in my life. I realize now that I should have screamed, but even if I had tried, I wouldn't have been able to. My mouth was drier than I could ever remember it being. I was too afraid to move, like a rabbit hoping to be so still that I couldn't be seen. Slowly, I watched as the blade was drawn from it's sheath.

My mother's hand on my shoulder tightened, "run," she whispered. She did not have to tell me twice. I ran as fast out of that house as my feet would take me. The wood, though I had been taught never to go there, that's where I went. I knew my father would never even dare to follow me into the forsaken place.

Even as my lungs ached and my weary legs threatened to collapse, I didn't stop. From time to time I would stumble, but I picked myself up as fast as I could and went on running. With burning fear in my breast and quickening adrenaline in my veins, I realized what my mother had done for me. She stood in between death and I.

I felt so ashamed, my old mother, dying to protect me. It was only then that I noticed the hot tears streaming down my face and the sob caught in my throat. _Why?_ I thought, _Why her? What has Mother ever done to deserve this? How could Father ever be so heartless as to kill his own wife?_

The wood was only a mile and a half from my house. I had often run there to escape from my father whenever he came home drunk and churlish. I knew the route by heart. The forest had saved me more than once.

Finally, after a good ten minutes of running, I looked behind me. He wasn't there, and I realized that I was utterly alone now. I tripped over my own foot and came tumbling down. This time, I didn't pick myself back up. A choking noise came out as I sobbed, rubbing my face subconsciously in the grassy earth. "Why?!" I cried out, my voice a pathetic little gasp.

Finally, still crying intensely, I got up. I was only a few hundred feet from the wood. I walked, not finding enough willpower to go any quicker than that. For a while, whether it had been minutes or hours I wasn't sure, I wandered aimlessly into the dim setting; still bawling noisily.

Too tired to go on, I collapsed between two humongous tree roots and drifted off into a fitful sleep. My night was filled with dreams from the most horrible stories one could ever imagine. Blood splattered against the warm stone walls of our little kitchen. The apple tart flung about the room, a blood-curdling scream from my mother.

In the end, I woke up, too afraid to sleep any longer. Only I found that I wasn't between the tree roots anymore. I was in a cozy little cave, lying on a bed of soft heather. I could hear voices, one deep, the other soft and a bit musical.

"-So soon after Stormbreak's death..."

"She must be a gift from Aslan."

"The poor dear, the way she sleeps is simply heartbreaking. My dear Glenstorm, what do you suppose happened?" The soft voice asked.

"Humans are queer creatures, Tarmeda, I can not be sure."

I felt my heart quake, I wasn't with humans. What if I was with Narnians? I shivered, they were just fairy tales used to scare me, to keep me away from the woods, right?

A soft whinnying sort of noise manifested itself upon my ears. I looked over beside me. It looked like a foal's body, but, as I looked for it's head, I saw the body of a boy, not much older than I. I shrieked. The pounding of galloping ears came closer. I hugged my feet to my little body.

The boy-horse-_thing_ stirred, turning itself upright. He looked at me strangely. "Who are _you_?" He asked in the most obnoxious voice. "_And what are you doing in my bed?_"

"Dromius!" Said the musical voice from behind me. I whipped around to see a woman with a horse's body. I nearly fainted. "Don't talk to a guest like that!"

"But," the horse boy whined. "It looks funny, I don't want it sleeping in my bed! It'll give me germs or cooties or something!"

A dark man, (I would have thought a Calormen at first glance) with the same horse body walked up. "Peace, Dromius, she could not give you any more germs than you could give her."

The little foal, who I know took to be Dromius, snorted; muttering under his breath, "It still looks funny..."

The woman-horse walked closer to me. "I am sorry for my son, Dear heart, what is your name?" She asked.

"A-Arameyis..." I stuttered. I had never been more bewildered in my life. "And what, pray-tell, are you?" Meekly I asked this question, trying my best not to be rude.

She let out a horse-like laugh. "I'm a centaur, of course."

"Oh," I looked at her, quite puzzled.

"Arameyis, my child, what were you doing in our forest at such hours of the night?" Asked the older male centaur. His dark eyes locked with mine. I immediately realized that they were the same color as my father's. But, his didn't feel cold, they seemed warm, and wise, and easy to love.

"I-I...I guess I'm running away from home..." My head drooped.

The woman immediately took me in her arms as a mother would do with her child. "If the circumstances are right, we will be able to shelter you." She whispered to me so kindly that I almost cried. And I told them my whole story. About my father and mother and King Miraz and how I ran away. In the end, the female centaur held me close, saying a prayer to someone named Aslan. My head reeled, I wanted nothing more in the world than to stay with them.

Ӂ

I finished telling this story to the person in the world whom I had always admired above all others. I finally got up the courage to look him in the eye. His eyes, the same color as my father's once were. The distant memory of them. But, though they were the same color, they filled me with so many different feelings that I felt as if I would burst from the sheer immensity of it all.

He had a different story, one that I had memorized word-for-word. I could tell him his own story, it made me think that I was quite absurd. But, I wasn't. _Aslan_ had _died_ for _him._ I could not be in more awe of him if I tried. His hand on my shoulder made me positively giddy, though I would never have shown it. He said nothing, but I was perfectly fine with that. He didn't have to say anything. I didn't mind it one bit. Though I felt as if the blush on my cheeks would become permanent.


	7. The High King

Thank you again to Scoli727, I now dub thee my official betareader (if you wish to be). Anyhow, I really am quite disheartened that nobody (save Scoli and Wyld) has reviewed. You people make me depressed. 'Tis true, my poor little heart aches. My friend has told me that his sister used to write only if she got however many reviews per chapter. I think I will try this.

Sorry it took me so long to get this one out, I've had a _**lot**_ of studying and homework. Exams are coming up and I want to do really well on them to bring up my grade-point average (not that they're bad, I just want _really_ good grades so I can be accepted as a foreign exchange student).

This chapter will be in Arameyis' point of view. It introduces Peter into the real plot of the story. It may be a little boring, I don't know your tastes, but fear not for the fight scenes are going to be coming up soon and that's where it begins to really get intense, so just bear with me please.

Socks and Shoes

* * *

I walked on in silence, the king whom I had long wished to meet trod silently beside me. My mother (or rather my foster mother) on my other side made me feel like one large sandwich. People around us were chattering away with gay voices, their mood not warming my chilled heart. _Where was my father now? What had happened to him these past few years?_ I shook those thoughts off.

"I'm sorry..." Said king Edmund. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, he wasn't looking at me. His regal face just looked straight out into the crowd ahead of us.

"It's okay," I replied, smiling to myself. I could see Tarmeda smiling coyly, pink lips curling ever so slightly. This smile I knew very well, it was her "I thought so," smile. But why it had appeared was beyond my comprehension.

For a while longer it was silent, until a male's voice said from the front. "I say, where's Edmund gotten himself to?" I looked up from my feet. It had been the High King, Peter. My heart fluttered, I had not truly seen him during the fight. I had arrived at the last moment and had only focused on the people running out to help him.

The High King was wheeling around looking for his younger brother. His tasseled golden hair waving about his fair head. Blue eyes searching desperately for the other Narnian king of old. He wasn't hard to spot among the centaurs and fauns and talking beasts. With long strides, he walked to where the second youngest Pevensie was alongside me.

"Ed," He started with one of those stern fatherly looks. It was then that he noticed me. "Who's your friend?" His expression changed to curiosity rather than reprimand. I looked at him (it is needless to say that I blushed) just as curiously. I had never before, in my whole life, seen hair so strange a color.

The younger king looked up at him with a start. "Peter, this is Lady Arameyis, Lady Arameys, this is High King Peter." He gestured to me, I was about to try a curtsy, but thought better of it. Especially while walking. So, I settled for a rough bow.

High king Peter clasped my hand in his, bent down, and brought it to his rosey lips. Never in all of my short life had I experienced such chivalrous treatment. He then looked at me from under his dark lashes saying, "Enchanted." I felt as if I were about to faint, the blood rushed into my already flushed cheeks, turning them to what I expect was the color of a tomato.

"N-nice to meet you, m-my king," I stammered, trying to get a hold on myself. As soon as he let go of me, I quickly pulled my mother in to meet him. "This is Tarmeda, my mother."

She looked at me quizzically, then gave a centaur's curtsy (she had always been much better at that sort of thing than I). "High King, it is an honor to be in your presence."

He smiled and bowed, "It is an honor to meet you also, my fair cousin." His bright blue eyes filled with untold smiles. But, the more that I looked at them, the more that I felt that he had an untold emptiness inside of him. I regarded him for a moment longer, then turned to the darker-haired brother. He was watching me with eyes as dark as the night sky. I couldn't help but get lost in them, holding an air of elegance and power. They confused me. So many emotions held inside of them, joy, sadness, compassion, strength. I could see his untold secrets, the lies that he had worked so hard to beat down, All of this deciphered in only a seconds' time before the High King claimed my attention.

"My lady, if I may ask though," he said to me. "Why are you wearing a man's clothes and broadsword?" A hint of humor sparked in his electric blue orbs.

I looked at him, this was perhaps the simplest question I had ever heard. Why wouldn't I be wearing britches? "My dear king, Britches are much easier to run in than a skirt." Came my reply. Were men really as dense as they seemed? Did they actually expect me to run around wielding Kryn in a full skirt and bodice?

His expression confirmed my suspicions about being expected to wear a dress at all times. Although he appeared to be laughing. "I wouldn't know." He told me, "I've never worn a skirt."

I pictured the king in a dress and had to strain to keep myself from bursting into hysterics. Although on my face was the grin of one stifling their giggles. "Which is just as well, I don't think I could take orders from any king who did."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small smile grace the younger brother's pale lips. I began to wonder if the same image had entered his mind. The High King watched us, eyebrows lost in his mop of golden hair; apparently wondering what had humored us so. My mother nudged me, giving me a look of inquisition when I caught her eye. I shrugged and returned to looking at my worn leather boots swinging back and forth as I walked.

After a moment of peaceable silence, High King Peter bid us his leave and returned to the front, his younger brother accompanying him. I was once again alone with my mother. "Well, what do you think of our Kings of Old?" She asked.

A smile crawled up my face as I murmured, "King Edmund is so scrawny, I'd never imagined him to be so gangly."

Tarmeda chuckled, humored by my first thoughts.


End file.
